


Small Everyday Deeds

by Questions3



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Bilbo Baggins, F/M, Female Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9176506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Questions3/pseuds/Questions3
Summary: So... Bilbo can bench a troll. And go.





	

              He was looking at her.

              In point of fact he’d _been_ looking at her for a while now. Bilbo had come out of the smial to enjoy the sunshine and the bright spring blooms that were perfuming her garden. She’d even lit up some Old Toby to lull her further, enjoying her smoke rings and the heady burn of the sweet spices. At least, she had been, before this over tall, elderly looking Man had wandered up Bagshot only to stop in front of her gate, leaning against his gnarled staff and _stare_ at her.

              Since he seemed less than inclined to break the staring contest, and she had things she needed doing before the evening that didn’t include a standoff, Bilbo cleared her throat and hailed a cheery, “Good morning?” to the codger.

              She wasn’t sure what made her think anyone who just stopped and stared at people would give her anything approaching a _normal_ reply but there was no crime in being hopeful, “What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

              The words were confusing, but the huffy stance and nature of her surprise guest was anything but foreign, “GANDALF!” Before the wizard could do more than smile at the hobbits clearly happy remembrance of him he suddenly found himself in the grasp of a crushing embrace and, for a heart stopping moment, airborne.

              “OH! My dear Bilbo! I’m glad to see you remember me,” the wizard chuckled, a bit breathless; it wasn’t everyday he was taken off his feet. But then, it wasn’t everyday he was greeted by a hobbit. Something he should have taken greater care in remembering. For all their small stature, the tiny creatures were entirely made of muscle. His very first introduction to this really not so guarded secret was the Old Took, not so old when he’d met him. The lad had wandered into The Prancing Pony and gotten into a small altercation with some less then reputable Men. After offering his services to the smaller man he’d been left rather surprised as he’d been thanked politely but made rather unnecessary as the rowdy drunkards were tossed bodily from the pub.

              But that was neither here nor there. “What are you doing back in these parts Master Gandalf? It’s been ages!”

              At the moment he was staring down into the happy, amber eyes of one of his favorite hobbit’s daughters, curly black hair just like her mother’s twitching in the wind as she smiled up at him. With a fond smile of his own he nodded as he made up his mind right there, “Well my young friend, I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure…”

***

              It was Nori who made the connection first. Of course it was Nori. There’d never a dwarf even half as observant...

              _Aside:_

              _Dwalin: Nosey’s more like._

_Nori: You’re just sore cause you got thrown down by a little girl_

_Bilbo: Girl!? I’ll have you know I’m properly middle-aged!_

_Nori: *crooked smile* ‘Course you are luv._

_Dwalin: *slaps thief in back of head* Tha’s enough of that. Get on with the tale already damnit._

_Thorin: *glaring at thief on other side of Bilbo*_

              Arguably it was what kept the lad alive for so long, what with his less than legal preoccupations. So it wasn’t too surprising that the only dwarf who took note of just how easily Bilbo managed to collect so much firewood in one foraging mission. The lass would scamper off after one of the lads and come back with a pile damn near twice her size. But regardless how much was thrown on her breathing was ever even and her brow was always dry. It had been assumed that plump bumbling form of hers was all fat and easy living but as Nori watched she seemed to be comprised of much sterner stuff. Though it wasn’t until Rivendell that he got to put his theory to the test.

              The Company had been drinking for the better part of the night, seeing as the food was blatantly inedible. Really, what the hell were they supposed to do with all this green shit? So most were well and truly in their cups and they were all looking for something to entertain themselves with. It wasn’t until Glóin sat and began arm wrestling with Fíli that inspiration struck.

              As the father finally pinned the whelp’s fist to the table and the rest broke out in cheers Nori sent the, happily swaying hobbit a sly little smile, “I’ve got ten pieces says he can’t take down the lass!”

              _That_ had half the Company howling and Glóin and Dwalin laughing as they watched the confused look on their hobbit’s face.

              “You can’t be serious!” Kíli cawed from where he’d all but fallen into his brother’s lap laughing so hard.

              “He’ll crush her!” Fíli chuckled as he rotated his arm from the strain he’d went through from Glóin’s pinning.

              “Well I’ve twenty says she’ll have you crying for yer mum in ten seconds flat,” his braided brow quirked in clear challenge as he sipped from his tankard. He may be overextending himself here but he was pretty sure Bilbo was worth it.

              “Wait, what?” the lass’s slightly slurred speech was filled with confusion as she tried to step closer to the huddle. Nori, the dear he was, took hold her hand and plopped the lass on his lap to keep her from wanderin’ off. Funny thing hobbits, they liked to cuddle something awful so Bilbo was more than content to just slump in her new warm seat as the nonsense around her took off.

              “Are you mad?”

              “She’s a girl!”

              “She’s a _hobbit_!”

              “He’ll hurt her!”

              “She’ll get her arm broken!”

              “Well why don’t we ask her then? Bilbo lass,” he jostled the wee thing in his lap till she turned to blink slightly glazed eyes up at him, “Wanna try your hand at arm wrestlin’ the lads?”

              Amber eyes blinked a bit before a small scowl crossed her face, “Well… it’s not exactly proper behavior for a… for lady… is it?”

              There was just enough disappointment in her voice that Nori found himself grinning widely as he leaned in and whispered, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

              The beaming smile was absolutely adorable, and dimpled as she scrambled into the seat Glóin had previously occupied. Fíli looked at her then Nori in clear trepidation before sighing and sitting down. The tiny hand was engulfed in the much larger paw of the young dwarf and Glóin came forward to begin the match, “All right lad, and try not ta hurt the lassie now. Ready? GO!”

              A resounding _snap_ went through the room as Fíli was almost flipped right out of his seat and Bilbo pinned his arm. The gathered dwarrow stared in silent shock as the tiny lass chuckled quietly to herself and made grabby hands at the tankard Nori was chuckling into. Seeing as she was about to win him a small fortune he was more than willing to oblige and handed it over to the greedy little thing.

              The shocked silence was short lived as an instant later the group was demanding a rematch and bets were being laid. Fíli insisted he hadn’t been trying, which was true, and they settled on a second match for prosperity. It took her five seconds this time and the boom was much louder.

              After Fíli came Kíli, because when taking on one idiot the other wasn’t ever far behind, he did even worse than his elder brother, damn near flying from his seat at the force behind the pin. From there Bifur came forward for a go and lasted about ten seconds. Bofur lasted a bit longer than Nori had imagined, though he was putting it more on Bilbo being distracted by the miner’s hat than anything else. Glóin was summarily defeated and wandered off fifty coins lighter and with a sore arm. Finally Dwalin came lumbering up for the task.

              “Come on then, I’m not half as drunk as this lot. Some soft, little Halfling won’t get the best of me.” To which Bilbo stuck her tongue out and sent the guard onto the floor with their match.

              “I’d like to give it a go!” young Ori announced as he stepped up to Bilbo. Now, Nori was a bit concerned. There were only two dwarrow in their Company stronger than Dwalin and they were his brothers, Dori being the strongest of the lot. Now, Dori wouldn’t be caught dead in a gambling ring such as it was. Too proper for that, so nothing to worry about there, and though Ori was not as strong as Dori, the pair were still leagues above Dwalin. Dwalin could toss a dwarf over a stone wall no problems. Ori could send him _through_ it.

              Nori could see the eager gleam in the rest of their companions eyes as they began the betting again, all knowing Ori’s strengths and all more than happy to make their money back from the middle Ri. He wasn’t sure how he was going to weasel himself out of this as he grumbled a bit under his breath where he stood by Bilbo. That was, until he felt a strong grip on his hand and looked down into cheerful amber eyes looking up at him as the still very drunk hobbit leaned over and beckoned him down to her level. As he stooped down a smirk suffused his face as she whispered into his ear, “Don’t worry No-No. I won’t *hiccup* I won’t hurt him like… like I did Dwalin. I like Ori.”

              And it seemed even a drunk hobbit was an honest one as Bilbo seemed to reel herself in for this match, letting the pair stand still for a good minute before Ori seemed to overtake her inch by inch, only to be swiftly pinned with a small thunk in the next second. As everyone was screaming and hollering Nori threw the hobbit up into his arms and laughed as he was handed over his significant winnings.

              In the next second everyone else was laughing as the sweet little money pot lost her entire nights drink onto his head. The next thing he knew Dori had returned from wherever he’d been with Thorin and Balin, taking the sick hobbit away from him to clean up and scolding him for letting the tiny thing get in such a way. Thorin and Balin were scowling and ordering everyone else to bed and that was the end of it.

***

              Bilbo had had just about all she could take from this _adventure_. There had been Trolls, and Orcs, and _Ponies_!!! Now Thorin lay at their feet potentially _dead_ from being used as a chew toy, while the rest of the Company was suffering from wounds and burns and splinters of unusual size. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Gandalf couldn’t wake the King up. He hadn’t been exactly pleasant to her thus far but he was noble and he was trying to take care of his family and people, something any hobbit could understand, even if he was a complete curmudgeon about the whole thing. Without Thorin it all ended here. And there was so much more that they needed to do! She’d been through so much and too much to go back to her smial without having accomplished anything.

              And _none_ of her sheer panic at seeing him lying there limp and lifeless had _anything_ to do with how her stomach fluttered like a damn flock of cardinals had taken residence whenever he turned those intense blue eyes her way. Or how she just about melted whenever she’d catch him laughing with Dwalin or tending to Fíli and Kíli’s hair. Nope, not a damn thing.

              She did have to admit, maybe a little bit to herself, that maybe she was a touch more invested in the dwarf then she wanted to be when, upon hearing him groan as he woke and rose, “Where’s the Halfling?” she just about fell to the ground in relief.

              “It’s all right. Bilbo is here. She’s quite safe.” Gandalf suddenly moved and she got a good solid look at the bloodied and beaten King Under the Mountain as he stared down at her in wonder.

              Before she could think better of it her eyes were spilling over and she raced over to him, “Thorin! You’re alive!” She barely registered the grunt as she wrapped herself around the great idiot. But the panicked flailing caught her attention as she realized she’d lifted the dwarf right off his feet. With a bashful blush and a mumbled apology she placed him down carefully and scurried back to Nori where he was standing by his brothers laughing his ridiculous ass off. The jerk.

              She didn’t see the curious blue gaze trailing after her as she went, or the curious pink color that began to replace the previous pallor.

***

              “I don’t like dwarves,” a sentiment Gandalf had certainly been fighting since picking up the little nitwits. Regardless of his sympathies they were extremely counter productive at the moment.

              The wizard only allowed his face to fall for a moment before coughing softly and smiling beguiling once more as he gestured to the little hobbit at his side, “Ah, but you do like Master Baggins.”

              Beorn turned his rather frightfully bushy brow down as he took in the little female that had accompanied the rest of the invaders. Bilbo stood there with dirt on her face and blood still encrusted on her coat and clothes. A number of untreated scratches were visible on her tiny hands and neck, and she was sporting some rather alarming bruising along her left temple. The deep purple coloring served to enhance the deep amber of her overlarge eyes as she stared up up up at the behemoth Man in front of her while she bit at a small scab on her plump lips waiting for his response. The affect was very effective, Beorn turned his eyes back to the manipulative wizard, glare a bit more rueful then purely hostile, “The bunny is a creature of the earth. But dwarves,” here he trailed his harsh eyes over the warriors gathered before growling lowly, “They are greedy… and blind. Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own.”

              Obviously this was going over swimmingly with the gathering, though better than Bilbo had any right to expect. As she looked over her companions she saw stony acceptance in their faces. Kíli’s scowl was tight as he turned his gaze down to his feet, Fíli standing at his shoulder staring the skin changer down silently. Balin clasped Dwalin’s shoulder as the guard stepped forward at the insult, Glóin and Óin similarly contained as they scowled after the large man. Ori clutched his fists as Dori grabbed his shoulder and the pair held themselves taut and tall as they glared at the creature. Bombur frowned down at his hands, Bifur grumbling in his rock language as Bofur’s ever present grin wilted and he turned his eyes away from her own. When her gaze turned to Thorin he saw and caught it before turning his face back to their host, no anger in him, just resolution. They had heard all of this before. They had all heard this before _a lot_ , come to accept it from the races of Arda. Grass was green, the sky was blue, and dwarves were universally regarded as greedy fools.

              Before more than a flush of indignant rage could come from the incensed burglar, Nori stepped forward where he’d come to stand a step behind the lass, “But you do like Bilbo.”

              Beorn wasn’t the only one who turned an incredulous look to the disheveled dwarf. Thorin’s was heaviest as it burned into the hands that came to lightly cup the small female’s shoulders. The bear nodded cautiously, “I said as much.”

              The thief beamed at the beast and lightly gripped the fragile shoulders a moment; “You don’t like us, that’s fair. You don’t really know us. We haven’t got anything but the rags on our backs. We need more aid than we could ever hope to repay at the moment. But perhaps you’d be willing to make a wager?”

              That got the group into uproar, or at least half of them.

              “What are you thinking?!”

              “She’s the size of his pinkie!”

              “This isn’t a game ye daft bastard!”

              “What are you all _talking_ about?!”

              “He’ll _actually_ break her!”

              “We _just_ got away from the Orcs!”

              “She _barely_ got by that!”

              “Seriously, now, what in Mahal’s name is going on here?!”

              Beorn watched the scuffling with a touch of interest. The truth was he could care less for wagers, but these dwarves had him curious. He spared the suddenly quiet wizard a glance to see him still smiling before turning back to the hairy dwarf who’d addressed him, “What wager?”

              Nori’s grin glowed with satisfaction as he winked at Bilbo, causing the hobbit’s eyes to widen with understanding before she drew herself up and turned a determined look at the shifter, “Test of strength? A bit of arm wrestling?”

              The bear’s grumbling chuckle echoed in the yard, “And who of your number would challenge me?

              “Why the,” Nori turned a propped up brow to her and smirked as he continued, “ _Bunny_ , of course.” He blatantly ignored the sharp elbow that burrowed into his stomach in the next moment. “And if she wins you give us aid. If not we leave.”

              The bear man snorted as he swung up his axe once more, “You will leave if I win or not.”

              Nori’s smile faltered a moment as he frowned at the shifter, “Well, name your price then.”

              Beorn looked over the bedraggled group skeptically, until his eye landed on the pitiful looking bunny once more and his mouth thinned as he thought over his options, “If I win, I keep the bunny.”

              Thorin instantly started growling as the rest of the dwarrow started yelling and hollering. Bilbo watched as pandemonium broke out around her. Nori had instantly grabbed her closer to him, growling something in their stone language at the suggestion, placing himself between her and the shifter. Gandalf was just barely keeping her friends at bay with a threatening swing of his staff. It was touching, made her stomach flutter at their clear concern for her, but it wasn’t getting them any closer to the Mountain. She turned her tired gaze up to the bear who was watching them in clear derision and she clenched in determination shouting over the rest, “I accept your terms. Lets get this over with.”

              “No she doesn’t!” Thorin growled as he came down from where he stood in the doorway and drew her closer to the middle of their rabble.

              “This isn’t your choice!” Bilbo explained calmly as she tried to squirm from the firm grip.

              “You are part of my Company, thus making your fate _my_ responsibility,” Thorin grumbled as he kept the fussy creature in hand. He looked down at the defiant, soft face with a grimace of his own as he steeled his resolve, “We’ll find some other way to make it through the forest.”

              Bilbo stopped struggling in favor for staring up at the King beseechingly, “It will take too long, even assuming we can find anyone else to help us! This is our best chance. And this is _my choice_!”

              He stared down at the determined amber eyes and felt his stomach plummet as his resolve started to crumble, “Bilbo, you don’t need to do this.”

              Thorin looked terrified as he grabbed her closer to him. Bilbo merely smiled and patted his hand before moving over to the trunk the shape shifter was standing near. With a small, determined grin she gave her hand to the large Man, “Have we a deal Master Beorn?”

              The bear twitched his brow up before shaking the tiny paw offered him and sitting by the stump. He grasped the tiny creature’s hand in his much larger appendage and allowed the wizard to grasp them together, “Well then, on my mark. And begin!”

              His surprise almost lost him the match when in the next instant his arm near wrenched itself downward. He caught himself just barely in time. With a huff and a small chuckle the bear man smirked down at his disgruntled opponent, “Tricky little bunny.” He chuckled harder at the way her nose wrinkled at the name.

              Slowly he begins to work their joined hands upward, careful to keep from wrenching the tiny arm in his power. Their arms quaked as she seemed to dig deep into herself and thrust all of her will and power into their match. He would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try to keep in the game. The little hobbit was surprisingly strong, shockingly for a creature so tiny. But he was a shape shifter, larger than any Man or Elf; he towered over all in his purview. He was strongest as a bear but he was just as formidable in this bipedal form.

              It was a matter of intense moments before he had the hobbit panting and twisting in despair as he inched her own arm closer and closer to the table. He watched as determination faded to discomfit and sprinted into panic. Amber eyes flew from his own to their hands as terror took over and had the little creature’s breath coming in pants as she began to despair at every lost inch. Beorn heard the rest of the menace clatter as they all prepared themselves for a fight they would all loose as he was not one to be trifled with, and a small pack of much abused dwarrow would be nothing for him to squash. If they thought they could take from him what he would not give they were very much wrong.

              Suddenly the bunny looked up from their hands with watery eyes and zeroed in on one of the dwarves. He allowed himself to turn his own gaze to, not the dwarf that had offered him the match, but the leader with the dark hair and icy blue eyes. As he watched the dwarf kept his own darkening gaze on the tiny hobbit’s, fists clenching at his side, one trailing to his great sword as he saw the panic in hers. And just as he was about to pin the tiny hand in his power he watched as the dwarf sent a small reassuring smile to the tiny hobbit.

              The sound of his hand being pinned to the stump resounded about the clearing.

              Silence lasted all of ten seconds before the dwarrow were yelling and celebrating their tiny friend’s victory. Before he could blink the bunny was whisked away into the throng, she was hugged and clapped on the shoulders until the one in the hat picked the lass up onto his shoulders and the group began to chant. Her own relieved laughter was almost lost in the happy rejoicing.

              “You are a person of great sympathies and generosity Master Beorn,” the wizard stated as he came up to his shoulder as they watched the lass being passed off to a bald dwarf’s shoulders.

              Beorn snorted as he glanced at the grey Man, “I don't like dwarves.” He turned his gaze back to see the bunny had been dropped back to her feet and was being hugged tightly by the hairy one who’d offered her up to begin with, clear relief writ across the dwarf’s face as he clasped her to him. He nodded once to himself as he rose to his feet, “But I see how they all seem to value this Hobbit, how they care for her.”

              Suddenly the bunny was wrenched away from the gambler and engulfed in a surprisingly tender embrace of their leader and Beorn chuckled lowly as he nodded to the pair, “That one looks like he’s already choosing a betrothal gift.” He turned to see the wizard was watching the pair with a sappy smile of his own on his wizened face, “I suppose they’re not as bad as I thought.”

              He turned back to the victors, took in the flushed face of the hobbit as she shuffled her feet a bit and remained in the loose circle of her dwarf’s arms while he spoke softly to her in the midst of all the ruckus. Raising his voice over the rabble he gestured to his home, “Come, I’ll feed you while you tell me what it is you’ll need.”

***

              Thorin was in trouble. Most would say that he’d been over his head from the moment he’d thought it possible to take on a dragon for his mountain. And though they wouldn’t be _wrong_ that wasn’t what his problem was. The real issue was his steadily growing, we’ll call it regard, for the Company’s burglar. He’d been lying to himself for the better part of the journey, deny the tiny creature’s appeal at first, but then she’d followed them through a gobblin infested mountain chain, and stood to defend his prone body from Azog, the cheifest of his nightmares. That showed strength of character that he found… _very_ appealing. Strength, in all its forms was something dwarrow looked for in a mate, and Thorin was no less suseptable to its lure, especially in a bundle of adorable curls, dimpled smiles and curves that made him think Mahal’s wife may have had the better of it when crafting her children. At least the females.

              And then Bilbo had lifted him right off his feet… Mahal have mercy.

              Now they were in this weed eater dungeon and the little burglar had avoided capture, found his entire company, released them and found a feasible way out of this cursed forest once and for all. _Brains_ as well as brawns and a stolid character that had him all but falling at her feet.

              “What is this!? Guards! Guards!” the elf’s caterwauling was cutting through his musings as he levered himself into one of the barrels they’d be using to escape.

              Bilbo had already popped back up behind the elf and slammed her fist into the things knee causing it to fall to the floor prior to anyone stumbling from his compartment. Before a noise could be uttered from the mud brained beast Nori had shoved a questionable looking rag in its mouth and Bilbo had wrapped a length of fabric around its head. She then growled as she picked the limping mess up and used her completely impressive strength to toss the ponce up and hook its robes onto a hanger on the wall, “MEAN ELF! ON THE SHELF YOU GO!” The thing glared fiercely as they moved quickly through the hall and towards the cellars.

              Was it really any surprise that as Bilbo was passing the barrel he’d secreted himself in that he reached out for the hobbit’s collar and pulled her closer, sealing his lips to her in a forceful and heated claiming. He’d have had them caught again before he was done with the blushing beauty had Nori not grabbed her up and deposited himself and her into the same barrel before throwing the elf on a shelf’s blade at the release and sending them all into a hellish experience of water and doom.

***

              It probably wasn’t funny in the slightest, but watching as a creature of fiftieth of the bleedin’ wyrms size grab him up by the tail and physically slam him into the mountains of unforgiving glittery metal, killing him instantly, was a sight to see. It _definitely wasn’t funny_ when the hobbit collapsed not seconds later having over extended herself and spraining damn near every overpowered muscle in her tiny body.

***

              Thorin was in deep shit as he danced this way and that, avoiding the orc’s weaponry and lunges barely as his weakening body managed to give him less and less. Azog, circled, taunting him endlessly as his end was drawing near. The last thing that crossed his mind before he was to meet his maker in this ice encrusted wasteland that was once his home was a plea for time, time to make things right between himself and his burglar. But it seemed that was not to happen as his legs finally gave out and he knelt to the ground prone, waiting for the final blow.

              The orc said something in his hellish speech before raising his weapon one final time.

              “Don’t you dare!” came a shrill cry as a bushy haired menace raced towards the orc. Before he could swing his weapon around Bilbo had slid to within inches of his feet and _punched_ a crack in the ice that instantly spread and plummeted the great beast into the freezing rapids below never to be seen again. There were tears in her chartreuse eyes as she looked over at Thorin, panting, lips chapped and bleeding, head oozing from a small cut somewhere in that curly mess, coat ripped and bloodsoaked, knuckles bleeding from where she’d probably been literally punching her way towards him this entire time. She’d never looked more lovely in all his time knowing her.

              “Bilbo–” a horrendous shriek, like metal bending under intense cold gave way as the crack she’d sent the orc under started to spread and encircle her. Terror radiated from the hobbit and the dwarf and before his body could refuse him he was up and grabbing her around the middle throwing them both onto the bank and into relative safety as the rest of the ice cracked and gave way to the icy depths below.

              Picking himself up on one arm the King under the Mountain looked down on the breathless wonder that the bloody wizard had granted him, caressed her frozen cheeks and whispered, “ _Ghivashel_ ,” before placing their foreheads together as they heaved for air and calm once more.

***

              Dís had been in near constant correspondence with her misfit children since they’d arrived and taken the mountain. All through the winter and the early spring months they’d been sending updates on their health, their uncles health, and the rebuilding efforts. They’d also been sending her information on a curious creature they’d picked up in the Shire, hired for a Burglar, and who had apparently made off with her brother’s heart in the process. To say she was shocked would be putting it mildly. So when she and the first caravan of dwarrow managed to cut their way through the late snows of the early spring weather to the Lonely Mountain, lonely no more she was eager for three things. Her boys, her brother, and their hobbit. Not necessarily in that order.

              Crossing through the gates she was off her horse and instantly descended upon by her boys, “AMAD!”

              “My babies!” she instantly lifted the pair into her arms and grasped them to her, damn near killing them where trolls, warg, elves, and dragons hadn’t. Once released the clasped their now bruised ribs and made their way to Óin.

              Thorin came up afterwards and lightly touched foreheads with her, “Don’t think you’re getting away with this nonsense that easily either, you blunted beast. I’ve been well informed of just how you decided to behave upon storming the kingdom as it were.” She punched her dear brother in the swordarm with just enough force he’d be feeling the sting for the better part of a month. A small reminder that he’d best not be looking to end her children or himself again any time soon.

              Turning she found an oddly charming little creature staring at her with large amber eyes, hair tamed into a plethora of braids, all seeming to be a claim to some family or another, though the Durin braids claimed pride of place at her temples, her brother’s beads speaking of his designs on the lass. Cocking her brow and smiling welcomingly she nodded to the little thing, “And you must be the hobbit. Well, come give your sister a hug then lass.”

              The smile that blossomed on the girl’s face was charming as the rest of her, dimples and all. As she raced over to Dís she thought to hold back so as not to break her but was gleefully surprised to find herself lifted off her own feet as the tiny thing proved more mithrel then silver. She laughed from aloft and when she was allowed back to the ground, the hobbit lass blushing prettily and apologizing she lifted the wee thing into her own arms and whispered to the sweet girl, “Ah, finally someone with the strength to reel this great idiots we love in. I tell you its hard work doing it alone.”

              The pair laughed merely as they clasped arms and entered the mountain much to the terror of the rest of the dwarrow nation.


End file.
